


Affiliation

by Danima28



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is a ray of sunshine, Action, Adventure, Chases, Drama, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Freedom, Humor, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Light Angst, Marines, Marines got you lmao, Or did they?, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Petty, Pettyness, Pirates, Prison, Romance, a lot of blood, ace is also captured, did you really just throw a rock at him, dont do drugs kids, he ur jester, im still new here, marines suck, more characters may come in later, other possible pairings - Freeform, pirates vs. unknown party, reader is captured, really dont know what to write, runaway buddies, theres this ongoing joke between the two of you i think, this stranger is really annoying, you are in a cell, you escape together, you keep getting shot, you're sad, you're such a princess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-07
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-03-28 09:17:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13900959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danima28/pseuds/Danima28
Summary: You, an aspiring pirate with big ambitions. He, a freckly-faced stranger without a shirt on.The pair of you must work together in order to get out of this one alive.





	1. Chapter 1

 

"Oi, look like she's awake."

You stirred. A thick veil of sleep clung to your dry eyes.

Not willing to be pulled your slumber just yet, you groaned. Suddenly, a pair of rough, uninvited hands hooked under your arms and you forced your lashes apart slightly. A disorientating sensation rattled your senses. It was only when you realised that sketchy, grating sound was your feet dragging across the hard floor, and that the chime of a cold weight were shackles bound to your wrists. Then it clicked – you were being taken somewhere.

With only half a mind you wriggled and wrestled your kidnapper. Taking him off guard, you somehow managed to rip your arms from his grasp and make a beeline in the opposite direction. You glanced at the man you just ditched – he wasn't even chasing after you. Only grinning and yelling loudly. That seemed to unnerve you more, and you hastily whipped your head round to face your freedom.

Freedom, however, barely made it to the second step before your body abruptly smashed into something, and _hard_.

You hadn't seen that wall until now.

Gasping in painful surprise, you had ricocheted off the wall and hit the floor with just as much force. The throbbing in your nose made you feel nauseous. Raising a shackled hand to your nose, you grimaced when you felt a warm liquid, and pulled your hand back to examine your fingertips singed in blood.

In any other situation, you probably would've felt embarrassed. But there was no time for that. More hands invaded your person and you were violently hauled you to your feet. That sickening feeling in your gut only increased once vertical. Dizzy from the impact, you dramatically slouched in their hold. Might as well make this difficult for them.

As you permit the man and the other man to heave your limp body across the premises, you finally started to take in your surroundings. You were in a very dull-looking building, so to speak. Cracks and crevices scaled each dull wall and the dull floor was just a heap of dull stones. They dragged you past a series of cells, both vacant and occupied, but even those sturdy iron bars couldn't have seen duller days. You hadn't spotted a single window on your journey through the halls, and with no natural light, you couldn't know the weather nor time of day.

As you were looking left and right, something came to your realisation.

These men were marines.

"Ah, _shit_ ," you croaked.

They had got you. You hadn't even earned yourself a decent bounty yet; just a low-ranking pirate from some crew. But you supposed a pirate was a pirate – no matter their rank. You just didn't think you'd be seeing Davy Jones' locker so soon.

Your thoughts went out to the rest of your crew.

What happened? Are they safe? Who else got caught?

Whilst you had felt terribly relieved not one familiar face had passed by you thus far, you were also ashamedly bitter at the thought of being the only one who managed to let themselves get caught.

"Where… are my crew?" You squeaked.

One of the men holding you scoffed. You wished you could give him a piece of your mind but thought better of it. "Crew? what _crew_?" He spat, craning his head around to bear his teeth at you in a sinful grin. You recoiled slightly, alarmed by his ominous behaviour. "Those filthy pirates handed you over as soon as they knew you were what we were after!"

"They what?" You breathed, cowering under his scrutinising glare. He was lying to you, _obviously_.

Though you admit you'd previously been floating from ship to ship, you were positive you had found a crew that you would stick with this time, and similarly, would stick by you. Surely, they had thought of you as one of their own, surely, they would have fought for you, and, surely, they were on their way to save you right now.

You swallowed the bile bubbling in your throat and bit your lip. You'd be out of this soon enough.

The men continued to drag you through corridor after corridor, and you tried to ignore how your shackled arms had become sore under their numbing grip. Although, their physical exertion had begun to wane (much to your merriment) as they struggled with your stubborn body.

Finally, you were presented before two, large and imposing, steel doors. Staring at it, bemused and astounded, they began to greet you with creak and croak as they parted down the middle. Wasting no time, the man and the other man pushed you through before the doors could finish and you landed in a heap on the floor. You winced, the cool steel of the manacles digging into your tender flesh.

"Well," you heard someone say, and your head immediately shot up. "Look who finally decided to join us."

Stood before you was a very large man. He wore proudly the traditional white and blue attire of the marines on his large coat, dangling off his broad shoulders like a pretentious mantle. Beneath it, clad in carefully pressed shirt and trousers of a soft ivory, accompanied by a brown waistcoat that sat close to his chest. You briefly wondered how it managed to fit around his bold torso. Raising your gaze, you made note of his square face, tight jaw-line and cold, grey eyes that supplemented his crooked smile. Bizarrely, he wore a helmet upon his head. Though odd as it may be, the countless rough dents decorating it suggested it got more than its fair share of use.

The large man raised his arm and your eyes followed to see what was clenched in his fist. ' _Dead or Alive'_ it read, a picture of your profile and beneath it a small bill. "I've been looking for you."

He's been _looking_ for you?! Just what the hell did you do?!

"It seems you have me at a disadvantage," you said, refusing to let this man deter you. Wobbling a little, you tried to stand. He was smirking at you and it did little to calm your nerves.

"I am Juon. Marine Admiral." He spoke lowly, the cool tone of his grumbling voice sent shivers right through you. Mouth slightly agape, you were dumbfounded.

Admiral?

_Admiral?!_

You wanted to ask him just what the hell was going on, why you weren't dead yet and why, on this God forsaken earth, has an Admiral been actively searching for _you_. But the words refused to come out. Only weird sounds came raw from your throat as you glared at him with wide eyes.

"And you have something I want." He was walking towards you now, his abnormally large build growing with every step he made. You were pretty sure you were shaking now. Or the earth was indeed trembling beneath his footfall. You tried to steady yourself and maintain your façade of outward courage, but your nervous heartbeat was sure to give you away if he got too close.

Now, merely inches from you, your insides flipped in your stomach, cursing you and telling you to give back whatever it was he was looking for. But you were stumped. You didn't know what he wanted, and you were as sure as the blood that dripped from your nose you didn't have it.

"What are you talking about?" You managed to hiss.

"Don't play dumb. I know you know where it is. Tell me."

"I don't have whatever it is you're looking for! Find someone else!" You were walking on ice here. Yelling was not really the way to go when facing off a marine Admiral who was nearly twice your size.

You continued to glare at him and, to your disbelief, he stepped back. Thinking maybe he had believed your statement, you relaxed somewhat.

However, you could not have been more wrong.

He had reached behind his waist in one swift motion before promptly filling the empty space between you with an extended arm. A cold steel pressed against your heart and you held your breath. His finger loosely enclosed around the trigger; an impatient bullet hiding in the barrel taunted you like your worst nightmare.

_Holy shit._

Was this man going to kill you?

"I don't like to be tested."

You should probably start begging for your life right about now. But you couldn't help yourself.

"Go to hell, you bastard!"

Now you'd done it. You saw the unrelenting look in his eyes and cursed yourself for being so damn uncooperative. However, it surprised you when his outstretched arm began to drop. But then –

_**BANG!** _

A burst of overwhelming pain exploded in your left thigh, and you erupted in a fit of agonised screams as you collapsed; the clanking of the chains left unheard beneath your heady cries. You dug your fingers into the flesh around the gaping wound, hoping that by spreading out the pain it would somehow subside and become more bearable. It didn't. And you were left wailing silently as you rolled to-and-fro.

"I told you: I don't like to be tested. The next time we meet, you will tell me what I want to hear. Otherwise, you'll be lucky to leave with only a bullet wound. Take her away. She's got a bullet in her now but she's lively. Give her something to fix that." He mused, impassive to his actions.

Your vision was hazy, and you were desperately gasping for air through clenched teeth, but managed to see him tuck the gun back into the holster behind his hip before adding:

"Oh, and, be careful. We need her alive."

You were so close to passing out but denied the tempting blackness with all your might. Feeling the unwelcomed hands upon you once more, the marines dragged you away. You fought them with the strength you no longer had, and the pain in your thigh bloomed. So distracted by the hurt in your leg, you failed to notice the faint sting in your neck and the dull pain that followed until you saw the syringe in the corner of your eye.

The pain instantly numbed, but as did the rest of you.

What the hell did they just inject you with?

With less urgency, the two marines proceeded to drag your sluggish self back to whence you came. Try as you did to make note of the way back in case you had an opportunity to escape, you soon gave up; all the corridors looked the same and you had lost count of lampposts on the wall a while back. Whatever they drugged you with wasn't making things any easier, either.

Finally, you had reached the end of a hall. That all-too-familiar wall was still laughing at you. When you saw the waiting iron bars, you had struggled a bit (or, tried to anyway), but the men had only tightened their grip on you before effortlessly tossing you in like a sack of meat.

You landed in a pathetic heap on the stone floor with a shrill cry, grimacing from the pain even the drug could not save you from. Hearing the iron bars creak and wail in protest from usage, you turned your tired eyes to witness the lock clicking into place, finalising your sentence.

You watched as the men walked away, sniggering like little kids who had just labelled 'sugar' on the salt jar.

There was silence for a moment. A stillness in the cold air only your ragged breathing and occasional toll of the chains broke. You sought sleep, but sitting up, something came to your attention and you bit your lip.

You were going to have to get that bullet out…

Sighing, you figured your best bet was to get it over and done with now while the drug's numbing effects were still in place (albeit against your will). You figured you could pass out later. As much as the chains would allow, you tore off a strip of fabric from your top before wrapping it so tightly around the base of your thigh it pinched your skin. You yelped and waited a second.

It was now or never.

Biting your lip, you stuck two fingers into the wound and immediately bit back a cry. Reaching further, you felt the hard steel of the bullet and viciously grunted behind your teeth, ignoring the urge to hurl and carefully grabbed the intruding object before slowly retracting it from your leg. Cursing colourfully, you heard the squelch of your blood as you dragged it out and prayed it hadn't hit anything vital.

When it was out, you examined it momentarily and pondered how something so small caused so much pain. You were almost jealous. Tossing it aside, you moaned in exasperating pain. You unwound the tight fabric, straightened it out, then firmly rewrapped it over the wound and watched as the blood seeped into the fabric and stained the colour. Tearing another strip from your top, you repeated the action. It wasn't bad, but it was far from substantial. You weren't even sure if you were able to stop the bleeding, but you didn't care. You just needed to stay alive until your crew came to collect you.

But right now, you were just so… Sleepy…

 

 

It had been a week since your arrival, you could only guess, and you had seen little else but the insides of your glorious cell. That, and your eyelids. Although restless, sleeping was really the only way to knock the large chunks of empty hours off your day. With nothing to do, you often slept away your boredom. You thanked your lucky stars Admiral Juon hadn't called for another interrogation on matters you were ignorant to and prayed it would remain so. However, you had not been released despite your innocence, and the fact that you were still locked up in cold chains meant he had plans.

Your crew had yet to come to your salvation. However, you excused their tardiness with the reason that it hadn't been long since your capture. They'd come to bust you out of here any day now, you just had to be a little more patient.

Due to lack of activity on your part, the bullet wound hand certainly done its fair share of healing. Although without proper medical attention, there was only so much you could do. Lacking the proper clean bandages to change and dress the wound each day made you feel kinda icky. You had rotated the torn fabric every now and then, to find a clean patch that wasn't yet stained with blood, and for peace of mind unwrapped them when they became loose before rewrapping them tighter. But still, it all felt like a raging river ready to crumble an old dam that was already threatening to break, like the tiniest thing could aggravate it and set all your hard work back to the start. But, the bleeding had stopped and that's all that mattered.

They gave you little in the ways of food. A poor excuse for a slice of bread and a questionable cup of water was all that was permitted three times a day. Now, in your time of healing, you were sure you were going to need all the food you could get, so didn't turn it down whenever it arrived (begrudgingly disregarding pride and hygiene over the fact that you needed this food to survive). But sometimes, you were sure your servers had 'forgotten' the mark, and you and your stomach cursed them for having missed out due to their incompetence.

There was one thing, however, they never seemed to forget. You had become awfully familiar with the two goons that came to grace you with their presence after long stretches of time. They would smirk at you as they unlocked your cage and then stalked in. Before you knew what was happening, one of the men had approached you from behind, roughly hooking an arm in the crook of your elbows. The shackles still firmly around your wrists and you found all movement had become restricted. He used his other to grab a fistful of your hair and yank it to one side. With your neck exposed, the other man stepped up, a syringe firmly within his grasp. You struggled as always but found yourself massively overpowered and blamed your dreariness on this drug they had been frequently pumping into you.

Each time, you found your senses dulled significantly, as did the pain in your leg, and you worried that maybe your wound was more serious than your drugged-up body was letting on. You understood that the drug was not a permanent effect, though, as the dull sting in your leg would increase over time. That, and the fact they had to keep coming back to give you another dose.

After the drug was inflicted, the marines felt it only right to bully you a little before they left. For their own entertainment, of course. An occasional kick to the gut, or fist on your cheek. Sometimes you were just lobbed at the wall. It didn't hurt as much as it should've, so you kept your mouth shut and made no sound.

You sighed in your cell. You were so very lonely and sad. And _bored_. Not that company would be appreciated; all you wanted was for your freedom. You looked past the stubborn iron bars of your enclosure. There was another cell opposite and, it was just as lonely as you. Sighing again, you closed your eyes and hoped sleep would overtake you soon enough.

 

 

When you awoke sometime later, it was to the sound of loud rattling and several booming voices.

"Let go of me, you bastards!"

"Come on, get him in!"

"He's shackled in sea-stone, how is he still this strong?!"

"It doesn't matter, just lock him up!"

Frowning, you pried your eyes open to catch a glimpse of a bustling huddle of men. You heard multiple grunts of exertion, a heavy thud accompanied by a growl, followed by a familiar click.

The cell opposite yours was no longer vacant.

You lazily eyed the marines as they sauntered off whilst hissing insults at the newcomer. You remained as still as the dead, relaxing when they paid you no mind. Your eyes rolled back to the iron bars farcing you. A man with a very angry look on his freckly features sat behind them, still glaring at the Marines until they were some ways away.

It was then he noticed you. And his expression changed. Startled, your eyes met.


	2. Chapter 2

 

“Oi, are you okay?”

You wondered if you’d imagined it. Perhaps another side effect from the drug. But as you looked at him, bewildered, the look in his eyes was sincere. Shifting, you slowly began to raise yourself from your spot on the floor and dubiously eye up the new comer. Surely, your wellbeing served no significance to a man you’d never once met.

At a level-headed inspection, you took note of his roguish, jet-black hair, tousled and unkempt, and marvelled at the way it framed his dark features. His sturdy, thick brows hung close to his eyes as he frowned. His orbs a colour deeper and darker than that of his hair, and you’re sure they would’ve intimidated any man. You were no exception. But at a closer glance, you saw them glowing with a benevolent mischief and couldn’t help but be swallowed in. His nose was as sharp as his jawline, and your gaze flickered across his cheeks to study each freckle that decorated them. Lowering your gaze, he wore no shirt. Immediately, you adverted your eyes before allowing them to linger for longer than they should.

“I’m fine,” you croaked. Your voice didn’t quite agree with you, and you cursed it for acting up now of all times. You imagined your appearance didn’t do much to back up your statement either, as the stranger only frowned as he looked over you, unconvinced.

 “You sure?”

Your hair was loose and tangled and the strays were sprawled across your face. You had lost the band that held it together a while back. And although you checked your cell’s floor for it, you found nothing. Once considering the heavy shackles would make tying your hair back quite the trying task, you abandoned the search.

You hadn’t much left of your top – half of it was currently wrapped around your leg and crusted in old blood. The colour on your shorts was no longer as vibrant, smears of dirt had appeared like stormy clouds in a clear sky. Your baggy jacket was all that kept you from the cold.

And that was just your attire. Your left thigh was still amateurly bandaged with a make-shift material that fooled no one. Your legs excessively sporting a crowd of newly forming bruises beneath the dirt, as did your cheek and abdomen. Also, you were pretty sure blood still smothered your upper lip from when you’d had run-in with that treacherous wall.

You grit your teeth and sent him your best _I’m-okay-now-leave-me-alone_ scowl. You didn’t have the energy to smart talk him and, thankfully, he didn’t press it.

You began to unwrap your wound. Slowly, you peeled it from your skin, wincing when the angry flesh revealed itself. It didn’t appear to be infected – thank God (from what your novice medical skills told you, anyway). But the skin still looked slightly red and inflamed.

Before inspecting further, you felt eyes on you. Your skin burned beneath his gaze and you didn’t have to look to know it was the stranger who stared so intensely at you from behind bars. You grew uncomfortable under his scrutiny but continued nonetheless.

The silence was disturbed by your uneven breaths as you prodded around the irritated skin, gasping when it hurt. You wanted to gauge the extent of how serious the wound was, but with the drug still active, you really had no clue, so you concluded your only way to measure was by seeing where and how much it hurt.  Suddenly, the man spoke up.

“What happened to your leg?” He asked. His eyes were still burning holes in your skin.

“I was shot,” You replied simply, refusing to meet his gaze and continued to prod.

“By who?”

“A marine.”

“ _Marine_?”

“That’s right.” You didn’t feel the need to elaborate and he didn’t say much else for a short while. He looked sceptical for a moment, and slightly perplexed, but sooner frowned when he watched you flip the bloodied fabrics over for good measure (not that it would’ve made much of a difference) and proceeded to rewrap them around your thigh. When you were done, you sighed before scooting yourself to the back of the cell, leaning against the cold wall.

There was a heavy silence as you stared at your hands. Without your permission, your gaze had travelled across the stony floor, scaled up the iron bars and over his exposed torso until they met with his; still fixated on you. You countered his serious stare with a censorious look of your own.

“How’d you get stuck in here then?”

“You sure ask a lot of questions,” You breathed, your voice low and bitter. Although there was no rule against engaging in conversation, you didn’t feel like you should.

“Well, it seems like we’ll be here for a while…” He shrugged, and for the first time, his eyes momentarily left yours to glaze over his surroundings. He smirked disparagingly, as if this place couldn’t deter him and it intrigued you. You opened your tired eyes a little wider to see him a little clearer. But, after a while, you slouched again.

“Not me,” You whispered, not even sure if he'd heard you, you barely heard it yourself. But when he snapped his head your way and listened in curiosity it told you that he had. “My crew will come soon, they’ll save me.”

The man looked at you sceptically. The state you were in suggested otherwise, and he wondered how long you’d been telling yourself that. _You_ still believed every word. Though, hearing the words from your mouth after all this time and it didn’t sound right. You rolled your shoulders and drew your knees to your chest. It hurt your leg slightly, but you needed something to cuddle and shield you from the stranger’s imposing gaze.

You were just about to shrink back into the comfortable silence when suddenly, the stranger let out a breathy laugh and threw his head back. You watched his Adam’s apple bob up and down, perplexed.

“Right, right. Of course. Whatever you say, princess.” You frowned. Was he mocking you? The cheek! He looked to you again, raising an eyebrow and the corner of his mouth. “Haven’t you tried escaping on your own?”

“Are you stupid? _Of course_ I have!” You yelled, bearing your teeth. You growled as you remembered how much it hurt when they caught you snooping around the halls after succeeding in picking the lock. Back then, you’d tried to run, but your movements had been muted by drug and shackles alike and, it didn’t take long before you were brutally thrown back into your cell and staring at the same three walls.

This man was annoying, you decided, and you didn’t take light to the offensive intent behind the nickname. It’s not like you wanted to stay here. No person in their right mind would.

“Well you _clearly_ didn’t do a very good job if you’re still here!” He bellowed, challenging your snarl with his own. “It’s no surprise you’re here in the first place, no wonder you – ow! Oi!” You’d thrown a stray pebble at him. It hit him square in the forehead, albeit a little pathetically so, but managed to disgruntle him nonetheless.

“Hey, let’s not forget, you’re locked up here, too!” The flush had returned to your pale cheeks in heated rage as you barked back. The dark-haired man slouched at this, his bottom jaw grating from left to right in frustration. “Oh, and, _by the way_ , they keep drugging me with something. I don’t know what it is but, it makes my whole body numb and _that’s_ why I can’t get out!” You’d screeched hurriedly before quickly throwing in the fact that this bullet wound wasn’t doing you any favours, either.

At this, the man perked up somewhat. “They drugged you?”

You huffed, pouting dramatically as you threw your arms across your chest. “Yes. If you _must_ know, it’s some sort of serum. They keep putting a bloody syringe in my neck.” You winced, rubbing the spot with one of your chained hands to prove your point. But then something occurred to you. “Wait – you mean, you weren’t...?” You eyed him. Then your gaze shifted to the dull, rusting bars. They didn’t look like they could take much more ill behaviour and an idea popped into your head.

Whilst you had not been able to plough through the bars with brute strength, or lack thereof, this man appeared to be clean in terms of the drug, and to top it off, his lip-biting muscles were certainly a reason as any to believe this man was strong, even _with_ shackles. A lucky coincidence; had the marines made a mistake?

As if reading your mind, the man abruptly stood, exposing his charcoal shorts cropped just above the knee. The letter ‘A’ engraved on his belt and you were curious for a second. Later swallowing your interest, you tried not to stare at his chest when he widened the distance between his legs in a readied stance. He pulled one arm back, as much as the chains would allow, his fist in a tight ball. Like a slingshot, his fist flew through the cold air with a hiss before violently clashing with the cold iron.

A relentlessly loud rattle broke the wall of quiet you had so comfortably been hiding behind for the past few days, assaulting your sensitive ears as you cringed. Following the deafening clatter of the bars, you heard a heavy thud. The freckled man lay still on the floor in a heap before you could blink. Gasping, and without thinking, you immediately scurried over to the edge of your cell.

“Hey! Are you okay?! What’s wrong?” You clung to the bars, terrified by the sudden turn of events. He was unmoving and, for a second, you wondered if he was dead. Much to your relief, Freckles shifted slightly and groaned.

You hadn’t just witnessed a murder. Nice.

“I’m good,” He growled, his gravelly voice grating the Goosebumps on your skin. He mumbled something else behind his teeth. You didn’t catch it.

“What?”

“Seastone,” He repeated, louder this time, his voice still hoarse and low.

Ah, yes. That would make sense. You vaguely remember one of the guards yelling whilst battling his strength, noting that the seastone on his wrists were not enough to keep him in check.

“You’re a devil fruit eater?” You gaped. If there _was_ seastone embellished within the iron, you’d had no idea up until now. You didn’t really anticipate this man wielding such immense power, either, for he acted like an idiot. “Then you really must be an idiot for letting yourself get caught,” you jested, trying to get one up on the man.

“Shut up!” He rolled over, and you could see his now tired, drooping features curl into a scowl. “We were outnumbered. I was having an off-day.”

“ _Clearly_ ,” You snorted, earning yourself another scowl. You decided you liked pressing his buttons. It was something to do, anyhow. A second passed as he recollected himself, and you decided to feed your curiosity. “What do you mean, ‘we’?”

“My crew, of course.” He replied, as if you were already supposed to know.

“Your crew? Tell me about them,” You hummed, leaning closer.

And tell he did.

It felt like hours went by as he rambled on about his crew – though more accurately described as family, as he’d used the word ‘brother’ too often and regarded his captain as ‘pops’ or ‘old man’ more times than you could count.

You did not mind. Far from it, actually. If anything, you found his storytelling a fresh splash into the outside world you so desperately missed, after having seen nothing but these dull walls for who knows how long. You were tired of sleeping, so the pleasant conversation, no matter how taboo it felt in a place such as this, was something you welcomed with a warm smile and eager ears.

You watched and loved the way his eyes sparkled as he spoke, the respect for his nakama practically dripped from his words, and an array of pearly whites caught you off-guard when they made their appearance every so often in a dashing grin. You let yourself get swept away with his words and somewhat charming charisma, you hated to admit, especially since he’d been such an asshole only a few minutes ago.

He’d gone on for quite a bit, and you felt like you had met each and every one of them personally. To be honest, you kinda wished you could. They sounded like quite the lively bunch. You were almost jealous. Your crew were not nearly as spunky and certainly did not share bonds close enough to call one another ‘brother’, but you believed most crews weren’t like that, either. His was just special.

“And what about you?” He asked.

“Huh?”

“What are your crew like?”

Suddenly, you felt embarrassed. Earlier, you had expressed every faith in your crew were coming to rescue you, but now you felt like a goddamned fraud. In truth, you’d been repressing the idea that perhaps your crew weren’t coming in blatant stubbornness (a bad trait of yours) ever since you’d arrived. But only after hearing the freckled man’s admirable tales were you finally forced to connect the dots. If anyone was being saved here, it wasn’t you.

You sat back slightly, lost for words. Would you lie? You didn’t think you could pull off such a farce. You decided to stick with your prior claim. “Well, yeah – uh… They’re great! I mean, I know they’ll come to save me.”

Well, that was pretty pathetic, if you do say so yourself. Well done.

You’d hoped to throw him off, _at the very least_ , but you weren’t fooling anyone. That wall with your blood on it was still laughing at you.

The freckled man saw a change in your attitude, as you saw in his. His smile vanished. His brows were tied together slightly, and in his frowning features, you could’ve sworn he almost looked _sad_.

He opened his mouth as if to speak but was interrupted by a loud thumping sounding from the other end of the hall. You listened as muffled footsteps multiplied through the echoing walls. They whispered and hissed to you; something bad was going to happen. The messy array of thudding eventually died down and became clearer upon arrival.

Oh God, those two goons again? Your view of the freckly man was obstructed, but you could tell he was sizing them up. Goon no.1 was the first to speak:

“Oh, look. She’s got a new _friend_.”

Goon no.2 sniggered and you rolled your eyes so hard they nearly fell out. “Well, that’s too bad! You’ll to have to say your goodbyes, now. Little girlie here is being summoned.”

You heard a familiar click and panicked when you recognised it as the lock to your cage. They waltzed in and your panic intensified as they neared. You scrambled to get away but didn’t get far when you felt the cold stone of the wall against your back, pushing you back into the ring. You cursed. You despised every goddamn wall in this place.

One of the goons had grabbed you by the chains and hauled you to your feet. You hissed as the sharp edges dug into your wrists. He yanked you through, and you tried your best not to trip over your own feet.

“Oi, where are you taking her!?” You heard someone yell, and it took you a second to realise it was the freckly man. He was worried, and as close to the iron bars as his Devil Fruit powers would allow. Beneath his scowling brows, his eyes glinted like the red pearls around his neck in the dim light. It was almost striking. You glanced back at the freckled man from over your shoulder and focused on trying not to look petrified. Your valour had not withered away just yet.

“Shut up, pirate scum. The Admiral wants to see her.” The one behind you spat, hooking his arm in the crook of you elbow like he’d done before. “And this time, you’ll give him what he wants; no matter what we have to do to that pretty skin.” He hummed, his foul breath hot against your ear and you resisted the urge to heave.

From behind you, a low growl and a string of colourful words flooded from the freckled man’s mouth. You were wrenched forward, sparing his dark features one last glance before turning a corner, and the wall completely ate him up.

You trudged. Hallway after hallway had gone by and you were trying to keep up with the goons to the best of your sluggish ability. Eventually, you arrived before a large set of steel doors. A terrifying wave of nostalgia coursed through you and the pain in your left thigh pulsated with every throb of your nervous heart.

The doors wailed jarringly as they opened and allowed you entry. But you made no attempt to acquiesce its request until you felt an impatient jab at the small of your back. Resisting the sudden urge to shriek, you edged forward. Trying to calm your vigorous and shaking breaths, the doors cried as they shut behind you.

The immediate back of a large figure made itself apparent. You held your breath; his body turned to face you. Admiral Juon. You noticed his empowering marine coat was not slung over his shoulders like before. From the corner of your eye, it was slung over a chair by a desk drowning in papers. Papers covered in hurried writing and other messy ink marks. Of those papers, one caught your eye.

Your wanted poster stared back at you in all its amateurish glory. You cringed, your eyes growing wider. You hadn’t seen this upon your first visit, but you remembered the bullet in you leg proved quite the distraction. You turned your frightened eyes back to Juon. No coat, but still donned that bloody helmet.

This guy, without a doubt, was _psychotic_.

“Nice to see you’re still alive.” He said, referring to your leg. You flinched. What a load of shit, he’s the one who shot you in the first place. The shackles dinged as you clenched your fist. You imagined the chances of getting close enough to wrap the chains round that thick neck of his and strangling him to death. “It would’ve been difficult trying to get information from a corpse.” He added, raising his hand to his mouth. In his fist, you saw there was a glass and in it a substance of something probably very alcoholic and very, very strong.

He took a sip, and you swallowed.

Exhaling largely and pulling his lips back to bear his teeth, Juon brought his arm down to hang in front of his chest.

“Now, _give me the map_.”

Ah, it was a map?

He shot you in the leg – for a _map_?

You’d been holed up in this prison, for who knows how long, and all for a fucking **_map_**?!

“The hell are you talking about?! I’ve told you, I don’t have whatever it is you want, especially not some _goddamned_ _map_! What even makes you think I –!”

Behind you, a sudden ear-shattering clatter erupted by your ear, shards of debris ricocheted off the wall in all directions and came flying at your flesh in an alarming speed, the small pieces had pricked you skin before you could even duck. Small droplets followed suit, and you felt the sting of the strong substance aggravate your new wounds. You were too scared to move, so retorted to staring at him with your eyes wide and a face pale.

He’d just lobbed his drink at you, of course.

“ _Do not try my patience!_ ” He roared, you’d somehow managed to hear it over the deafening alarm bells sounding in your head. Juon swiftly stormed over to you, and although you tried to scramble away, your feet were frozen in place.

The same, large, calloused hand that just murdered the glass cup curled around your neck. You squealed in protest as you felt the tips of his fingers dig into your skin. That would bruise later. Suddenly, the floor was ripped from under your feet, they dangled helplessly as he squeezed your throat like a sponge. You briefly wondered if he was going to throw you against the wall, too, where you would shatter from his strength. He could kill you and it would scarcely require any more effort than it had for his drink.

“You are the girl. Your parents left you with a map, a map that leads to something I need. Tell me where it is.” He spoke lowly.

Definitely, he was _insane!_

“I don’t know what the _fuck_ you’re talking about.” You rasped and dared to spit in his face. For a split second, you felt almost elevated by your courage. That courage, however, quickly reduced to a big pile of wallowing regret when something cool and circular pressed eagerly against your bare stomach.

**_BANG!_ **

You writhed in pain, clawing at his hand as you battled for each painful breath. It hurt. Oh, _God_ , it fucking hurt. The clang of your chains fell on deaf ears as you screamed, mouth gaping wide open and clenching shut like a fish as you thrashed your legs about. You tried to kick him, push him away, something, _anything_ , yet nothing would work!

The pain in your side didn’t dampen or subside, but you managed to clench your agony by gritting your teeth and breathing as much as his harsh clutches would allow.

He had shoved you against a hard surface, you wouldn’t have noticed had he not leaned in so disturbingly close. Your vision was completely taken up by the expanse of his cold, grey eyes. You could even see all the fissures and scars in his skin.

Thoroughly creeped out and in so much pain you were seeing stars, you heard him curse you and felt the barrel of the gun press into the open flesh. The tip was probably swathed with your blood.

“I swear,” You wept, still clawing at his large hands. “I _don’t_ – know where it is.”

Admiral Juon’s eyes flickered between yours, searching for a lie. After what felt like a lifetime, he finally pulled back and released his hand from under your chin. You plummeted to the floor, coughing and spluttering and groaning in pain as you did so.

“Maybe you’re not aware of it now, but you do. You’re the only one who does. No matter, we’re done for today,” He grumbled, turning and walking back to continue to do whatever it is that he does. You clutched your side, the blood seeping from your fingers. “Take her back.”

And that was that. The two goons came in upon his command, hooking their arms around you it was getting somewhat repetitive. And thus began your excruciatingly painful trip back. They had to drag you with both arms, one for each goon, as you couldn’t walk in your current condition. You didn’t want to. Face down, you watched the blood from your stomach drip, and fall to the floor.

Without noticing, you’d come to your cell. You didn’t realise because something wasn’t the same: Freckles was gone.

Your heart sank.

Where was he? Is he alright? Had he escaped? Had he been killed off?

Either way, your heart withered like a rotten pear. You were by yourself again, now.

The two unlocked the door to your cell and chucked you in for what felt like the millionth time this week. You couldn’t help but think just how tragic your life had become. Oh, woe is you. Would you ever see the light of day? You’d spent so many days weltering away in this shrivelled, gloomy summit of hell, feeling more and more like a mushroom than you’d ever care to admit.

Everything about this was utterly scandalous. You wanted your freedom, damnit, not two bullet wounds, a map-obsessed marine admiral, accumulating clusters of bruises, pathetic amounts of shitty food, recurring doses of a drug you couldn’t even name, and still a bloody fucking nose – to top it off.

Overloading with scorn, you lay in an angry heap of bloodied limbs. To hell with the bullet. It could stay there for all you cared. If you weren’t leaving, then neither was it. What was the point? Juon obviously wanted you alive, so you would prove that shooting you first in your leg then your stomach was the wrong way to go about it.

Regarding that map – you wished you did have it, only to rip it to shreds right in front of Juon, then give him the finger. Maybe two.

And about your _parents_. Who in the _hell_ does he think he is? Acting like he knows it all, that fuckin-

Just as you were about to indignantly _combust_ , you heard noises. Shuffling. It came from the hallway’s other end. There was some mumbling. Then groaning. The sounds of heavy boots were getting louder as they neared.

You dragged your sombre irises to the noise, and, had you been standing, you would’ve fallen over.

The freckled man:

 _Covered_ in blood.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> weLL WELL.  
> You were finally making a friend (kinda) and he comes back half dead lmao  
> I wonder if he's alright?
> 
> Anyhow! Thanks a whole lot for reading this chapter! I really hope you enjoyed it :)  
> I have to say I'm quite proud of this one. I wrote it a while ago and just couldn't wait any longer to put it up. So it's a few days early and I'm sure i'll regret it come the next due date, but hey-ho.
> 
> See ya again soooooon!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, before we begin, I'd just like to mention that, like with all my previous chapters, I finished this one a month in advance. So usually when I post a chapter the next is not far from done. However, this time I have no next chapter ready nor in progress and I feel like this may affect the deadline next month. Plus college work is not going to help me with that at aaaaallllll so pls bare with me.
> 
> Regarding this chapter, I'm somewhat happy with the first half, but perhaps the quality gets worse throughout so beware???? I could've done better, yet I hope you enjoy anyhow!

To say you were surprised was an understatement.

Honestly, you were so devastatingly overwhelmed with shock, every other nerve in your body ran numb. Now, effortlessly forgetting that smouldering pain in your side, you sat up, wide-eyed and blinking furiously. Were you hallucinating? You can’t have been – you were fed the drug some time ago, you can’t remember exactly, and the feeling of your heart leaping painfully every time he cried out was _far_ too real.

Watching nervously as he wrestled the men with monstrous strength, you were baffled as to where he got it from; wherein you had gone down so strongly – this man was a raging fire that would not be so easily stopped. His boots clawed against the stone floor as he scrambled for distance, the scratchy sound left unheard beneath his colourful words and feverish grunts of exertion. Viciously thrashing his torso, he yanked his arms to-and-fro and, from your prison in which you sat, his indignant, exasperated expression that intensified with every malevolent gesture was as plain as day.

Through the breaks of the bustle, you caught sight of a deep red. It stained his back in long, thin strokes. Even the dye of his large, plum coloured tattoo (which you hadn’t seen before) was dwarfed beneath its angry hue.

You wanted to cry; out of horror or frustration or grief, you didn’t know. Your mind was as bare as these barren halls and no sort sensible thought could settle you for all the gold on the Grand Line. The two gaping holes in your body seemed so insignificant now; your heart was beating some million-billion-trillion times a second.

After hearing your strident gasp, he writhed to face you, awkward and rough. Then, to a complete standstill. Wide-eyed and holding his breath, time slowed as he met your frightened glare with his own heated eyes, marvelling and glinting in the low light, drinking you in. Was that relief you saw?

But the brutes wasted no time. They’d already unlocked the cell door and were readily swinging it open. Neither of you noticed until you heard the thump of his chest as it collided with the stone floor, the rattling chime of his chains whining evermore. The click of the lock sounded out and, this time, you didn’t wait for your capturers to be out of earshot before speaking.

“Hey! Are you alright?!” You bellowed, clinging to the bars to chance a closer look. Surprisingly, it didn’t take him long to sit up. Grimacing only slightly, he recollected himself. Now, in the dim glow, you could see the full extent of his injuries.

You were no medic, not by a very, very, _very_ long shot, so you had no clue as to how bad it was. But it didn’t look pretty, and that was all you needed to know. If he wasn’t careful it could easily get infected. You would’ve suggested wrapping the wound with a strip off of his shirt; it would suffice – you would know, but alas – he wasn’t wearing one.

Beads of sweat gathered atop his forehead, before dancing down his pained expression. You hoped he wasn’t running a fever.

“I’m fine,” he croaked, drawing a palm to his eye.

“What happened?”

“Whipped.” He replied curtly, and you winced.

“Does it hurt?” What a stupid question, you stupid girl. Of course it hurts.

“Nothin’ I can’t handle,” He reassured, grunting as he rolled his shoulders.

His mouth opened and closed slightly. You thought it was his lip quivering, but after a few seconds, you understood he was trying to translate thoughts into words. Something was troubling him.

When he shut his mouth, the shy sound of his lips slamming shut and a small puff of air, it seemed like it was the last time. You knew he’d swallowed his words. But you wouldn’t press it. They would probably scare you and make you worry anyway. Feeling useless behind bars, your fingers curled tighter, knuckles white.

Then, his hurt expression moulded into a solemn frown, and with his brows knitted together, his eyes were back to zealously gazing at you.

Finally, he spoke: “What about you?” He rasped, fidgeting and blinking apprehensively.  “Are you… _okay_?” You nearly scoffed.

Because hell, he’d been robbed of his freedom-filled pirate-life and thrown in a cell and then pulled from a cell and then flogged and then _who knows_ _what else_ and yet he _still_ had the nerve to worry about you? Your chest ached. He didn’t even know your name.

He really was an idiot.

After a second, you took a deep breath and sighed. “He shot me again. In the stomach, this time. But that’s it. I’m okay.”

He watched in all seriousness as you brought a hand to the gaping hole in your side. You had yet to amend it, for it oozed with all the blood and energy you couldn’t afford to lose. But you’d no excess material to rip from your top anymore – there’d be none left of it otherwise. Neither did you fancy digging around for the bullet buried in your guts. In front of the stranger, no less. Because that would’ve been one hell of a horrifying show.

He saw your neck by accident, the new angry marks that adorned it, and made a face.

“Who’s behind all this?” He asked. You were vaguely stupefied by his sudden question. Given you somewhat expected him to know the force that oversaw this place, as marines were an obvious no-no for pirates (he should’ve at least known this much). Perhaps he just wanted a name.

“Juon. I think he’s in charge of this place.”

His disconcerted expression only grew as he recoiled slightly, taken aback. “And? What does he want?”

You looked at him sceptically. Wasn’t it obvious? They were _marines_. And you were both pirates after all. Although, you would agree, in your case it was slightly different. But there was no way he would’ve known that. Puzzled, you shrugged. “I thought he was going to have me excecuted, but… turns out he’s after some map. He thinks I have it. Says it’ll lead him to something he needs.”

“A _map_? What a loony!”

You freed the bars from your iron grip, and finally breathe a laugh, “That’s what I’ve been saying!”

He smiled back at you before resuming his concentrated look and quizzically pinched his chin. “But still… it doesn’t make any sense,” he stressed, his thick brows drawing closer together as he looked at his boots.

“… _Sense_? What ever do they need _sense_ for?” You jeered, jaggedly scooting back to lean against the wall. “They have permission to do whatever they want to us, and no one can do jack shit about it.”

At this, the dark-haired man perked up, his astounded expression nagged at something in the back of your mind. “ _Permission_? You mean the government knows this is happening?”

What the hell is he talking about? “What are you –”

Before you could finish, you heard footsteps, and before you knew it, a plate of bread and a cup of water were thrown beneath your chin. Freckles’, too.

Turning your nose up, you threw your head back and groaned dramatically. More water and bread. You weren’t sure what was worse about this place: the unwelcoming hosts, or the rotten food. At least the company wasn’t too bad, though (still, you’d never let _him_ know that).

“ _Uugh!_ Disgusting. don’t they have anything else?” You spat, distastefully eyeing up the food. The stranger smirked.

“What – don’t tell me it’s not to your taste, _Your Highness_?!” Unimpressed, you glared at him.

“Shut it, jester. I’m sick of eating stale bread every day! Besides, I need proper food if I’m truly a royal.” You whined bitterly, reaching for your water and sipping apprehensively.

_“A royal pain in the ass.”_

Your brow twitched irately. Wasting no time, you took aim and hurled your drink at him at lightning speed. Nearly leaping for joy when it passed effortlessly through the bars and plonked directly into his face, you couldn’t help but commend how you were such a good shot (especially considering the gaping black hole in your stomach). The remaining contents spilled all over him and he fell backwards. For a split second, you thought you’d actually sent him K.O. However, he managed to catch himself before he hit the ground and swiftly regained his composure.

“ _That hurt!_ Oi! Quit throwing things at me!” He roared, dripping wet. Just as you were about to come up with some witty reply, you took one look at him and suddenly burst into a fit of giggles.

After the cup ricocheted upwards, it somehow managed to land perfectly atop his head, like a fez. He hadn’t noticed yet, which just made it all the more amusing.

He was caught off guard for a second and, really, could you blame him? You hadn’t heard your laugh in what seemed like _eons_ , so when it rang out like it did, loud and liberated, you had half a mind to stop because you suspected you had company.

He was later confused, cocking his head to one side. Only, when he did, the cup tragically tumbled from his head and onto the floor with a noisy clack. It wasn’t long before the freckled man understood, joining you in the fray, the pair of you laughing like you were getting paid for it.

You swear, you could’ve laughed forever, and had the sudden throbbing pain in your side not made itself evident, you probably would’ve done just that. But it was not to be, and you quickly crippled in protest. That was enough laughing for one day. The freckled man hurriedly worried after you.

“I’m fine,” Spluttering, you weakly raised a hand as if to ward off the troubled feelings from entering your cage. “I just need to rest.”

You needn’t to look to know he seconded your statement with the diligent nod of his head. Being mindful of your wounds, you quietly settled down.

“I’ll wake you if something happens,” he said.

 _Should_ anything happen, you thought you’d wake anyway, and unless they’d put a sleeping pill in that drink of yours, it was kind of hard not to. But you appreciated the gesture nonetheless; it reinforced an element of comfort to know someone was watching over you as you slept. A sense of safety you’d long since felt and missed dearly. You gladly welcomed it with open arms.

It didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

 

 

When you awoke sometime later, it was to the sound of a low growl, and it had to take a few minutes of hard, nail-biting thinking for you to realise it wasn’t a rabid beast, but your stomach.

Groaning, you rolled over to stare at the food you had yet to eat. To be honest, you weren’t sure if you could stomach it (who’s to say it wouldn’t just fall out that hole in your stomach?). Besides, what good would eating do? You’d already decided. You were to die in this dull place, wounded and starving. You only hoped your spirit would come back to haunt them.

Suddenly, the thought of your previous return to your cell occurred to you. When the freckly man was nowhere in sight. You became startled somewhat. Hastily, you shifted to peer at his cell.

Thank heavens, he was still there. But before you could feel relieved, the sight of his flaccid body immediately catapulted your emotions in the other direction. He was asleep, damnit! What ever happened to ‘ _I’ll wake you if something happens’_?! Still, you didn’t know how long you’d been out, neither were you the only one with injuries. So you let him off; he could’ve probably done with the time resting just as much as you.

Your rage softened into a solemn grimace.

Why did everything suddenly feel like it was your fault? Despite your less than mediocre medical skills, you wanted to help him. You truly did. Those wounds of his certainly looked painful but, these bars… were even more of a nuisance. Your expression became sad.

From your spot, you gazed at his peaceful form and, from the bottom of your heart, you prayed he find his freedom. He still had a hell of a life to live. So much so, in fact, you were practically green with envy. Because _you_ on the other hand… you were already half dead.

No ship, no crew, no family to speak of nor place to call home and yet, even if you _did_ survive long enough to pull off some miraculous escape (and, _God_ knows, that would have to be one hell of a grand act from him), what ever would you do? Would you pursue the pirate life you had always dreamed of? It didn’t seem possible, now. Not with every part of you missing, empty. Alone.

“…I will die here.” You confessed. And suddenly, it felt like your words had been carved into the walls that surrounded you. Is this what it means to ‘set in stone’? Hearing them aloud made you tremble, and you closed in on yourself inadvertently. The statement so inconspicuously heavy on your shoulders you felt like you were being crushed. Or perhaps it was your dream. The realisation you’d never be able to complete the picture you’d painted as a child. Things seemed so much simpler then.

But secretly… you looked forward to the day; you didn’t want to be here anymore. Not when you had nothing, yet still managed to lose it all.

You were slightly amazed as to how you hadn’t bled out yet, anyway. Apparently you could never lose enough blood.

From the corner of your eye, you thought you saw the freckled man twitch and wondered what he was dreaming about. It was only when you smiled at his sleeping form, did you realise your bottom lip was quivering like a fish. You had to sink your teeth into the flesh in order to stop it. But then, as soon as you did, wet anguish ran freshly down your cheek. Then another, and another, and soon, an entire orchestra of tears poured from your lashes in one big, grief-stricken symphony. Cursing yourself, you threw your head into your arms, hoping to bury yourself along with your whimpers and weary cries.

Because, really… you didn’t want to die!

You released another pathetic sob. It hurt when you did. Torn between the idea of life and death, you swallowed your wailing frustration. How could this world be so cruel? And why you? Why did everyone insist on driving you into the ground? You didn’t deserve this. You swear. What had you done in your previous life to make everybody hate you so much? Digging your nails into your arms, you bit back another strangled cry, trying to remain silent. But even your choked hiccups and harsh intakes of air were deafeningly loud in these halls, so hostile and heavy. The world was watching you suffer from affar with a sadistic smile on its face. You hated it. You hated everything and just about everybody in it.

A sudden distant sound of shuffling managed to shut you up once and for all.

Frozen with fear, you slapped a hand over your trembling mouth and wondered what it was this time.

First, A peculiar liquid that slushed behind a transparent casing caught your eye in the low light. You recognised it as that evil syringe of numbing-ness before establishing the two goons that wielded it; surprisingly, one for each goon. Then, realising you had never received more than one helping, you soon figured out your freckled friend was about to receive his first dose – conscious or not.

“Well, if it isn’t our _favourite_ prisoner!” one cheered, fumbling with a set of keys dangling round an iron loop. When he’d unlocked the door, he intrusively crouched down to your level. “Oh _dear-y_ me, you don’t look so good! That’s a nasty wound you got there, too.” He got a small snicker in response from his friend, before turning to throw the set of keys his way. “Do him. I’ll do her.” He earned an even heartier chuckle.

You sluggishly scurried back. It was useless, you knew. Why do they even bother with the sedative if you were only half alive in the first place? You had no energy left to fight back. So as soon as your back hit the wall it was all you could do to just glare.

“Aw, don’t look at me like that, girlie!” He grinned, craning his head to one side. “Y’know, if I could have it my way…” he whispered, leaning in dangerously close, “it wouldn’t be for the syringe to make you numb.”

You nearly whimpered. On instinct, your terrified eyes snapped to the cell opposite, praying for some kind of salvation. It was no use; the freckled man lay still, happily snoozing away (curse that moron). But he had problems of his own to deal with, for goon no.2 was already unlocking his cage and slowly narrowing in. Syringe in hand.

Horrified, you glared back to the man before you, his proximity striking a chord of dread in you that relentlessly racked up your rib cage as it tried to contain your fearful heart. A familiar grip around your neck had you wheezing, a thumb tucked under your chin to yank it sideways and the man wasted no time in shoving the needle into your exposed flesh, keenly angered with red marks by previous punctures and mean fingerprints.

You gasped at the dull pain pulsating through your veins, eyes growing wider as the liquid seeped in. A thousand pins pricked every inch of your skin from head to toe, like you were salt, crystallising in the sun. Then the feelings were washed away. It didn’t hurt as much anymore. You slumped, and when he released you, you collapsed with a heavy thud.

With your cheek kissing the stone floor, you caught heavy sight of your freckled friend. Depressed, you could only watch – helpless, as the syringe came down…

But then, without warning, his eyes snapped open.

There was a heated fiery adrenaline in them and you were suddenly robbed of breath.

Instantly everything changed; he moved, and you couldn’t quite make anything out but a blur as he rose to his feet with inexplicable speed. Wasting no time, the chains of his shackles eagerly found their way around the goon’s neck, clenching and squeezing tight before anyone could blink. You thought he’d been asleep, but with the way he moved, aggressive and criminal, your suspicions had never been proved so wrong. _Had he been awake this entire time?_

The choking sounds that ripped from the goon’s throat were lost beneath the oblivious, hearty cackles of his friend as he stared at your limp form. It was only when he heard the loud thud of goon no.2 crumbling to the floor did he stop and turn.

But what a mistake; he was too late.

The freckled man was already sprinting to where you were, anchoring his left foot down when he was close enough and violently swinging his other leg round in a relentlessly powerful, jaw-breaking kick to the poor man’s face. He flew several feet to the left and you thought you heard something crack. You tried not to think of it as he smashed onto the cell wall beside you, ricocheting off and landing on the floor with so much force he bounced slightly, limbs flying everywhere.

There was no time to be surprised, or even shocked, for the freckled man was already grabbing your arm and hooking another round your waist. He hoisted you up with a low growl.

“Put your arm around me,” he rasped. You tried to comply, but he had to finish the job himself. A large calloused hand secured around your wrist, and a sturdy arm hooked nicely on your waist – you were too drained and confused and astounded to do anything else but gawk at his features that were concentrated and determined and so full of everything you felt you had lost.

“What are you – ?!” You managed to squeak in a tired slur.

“ _You’re not dying here_!” He hollered at you, angry and gnashing his teeth. You felt a thump in your heart, nearly as big as the lump in your throat. He tightened his hold. Had he heard what you said after all? How embarrassing. “– I won’t allow it. So hold tight. I’m getting us out of here.” 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! 
> 
> Well what do we think? I tried to be subtle about some things that have an impact on the plot later, but I hope it was no too confusing and not too obvious at the same time :)
> 
> I don't think this one's as meaty as the last chapter but its still quite chunky (I think anyway).  
> I've been stressin about this chapter for awhile so you better enjoy it ok


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL WELL WELL, look who finally decided to show up!
> 
> I am not dead and I haven't forgotten about the story. :)))
> 
> First and foremost I would like to apologise for my tardiness. I know this is well overdue. I have been busy as hell lately and I know that's no excuse. 
> 
> Secondly, I would like to apologise about this chapter. It has taken me (as you all well know) an extremely long time to write and in the end, it is shorter than usual standards and quality has been sacrificed in order to squeeze it out of my arse before it took any longer. I am not sure how it has turned out but all I can say is I am not proud and I know I can do better. However, in the future I think I am going to make the overall length of the chapters shorter (and hopefully keep up the quality instead) in order to get chapters out sooner. I am not saying that I will stick to my old schedule, that was hard and unfortunately life has taken me by the scruff. 
> 
> Thirdly I am sorry for how long this message is, but I still hope you all are enjoying my story nonetheless, I still have great things planned...
> 
> Enjoy ;)

 

Clumsy, your footsteps hit the ground in a hurried slur. The sound battled fiercely against another pair much heavier than yours, sturdier and more defined. After the serum was so forcefully planted in your neck, the feeling of your limbs had long since disappeared. And yet, you couldn’t falter here. It wasn’t just your life on the line anymore.

One slip up, and he dies too.

You start to think that maybe you should’ve said goodbye to your cell, for it would be a while before the two of you were reunited. Although previously you’d managed to return time and time and time again with your life somewhat intact – this time you wouldn’t go back. This time, they’d kill you. No questions asked. You couldn’t allow that to happen – to be the reason why this stranger never got the freedom he was owed. Truly, what a terrible weight to your shoulders. You both craved it; for sure. That itself was enough to carry you past each empty cell, glaring greedily and licking their lips as the pair of you tumbled through the halls (although, Freckles here was doing most of the carrying - you on the other hand could barely lift your right brow).

Unfaithful, your body fought your every step. You weren’t sure how long you could keep this up. A silent prayer fell modestly from your lips; “ _Please, let us be free soon._ ”

No matter how hard you hoped, you had no clue where you were going and, assuming the freckled man was none the wiser, the chances of your escape being quick and painless were seeming rather slim.

Seconds passed and yet nothing but the sound of your hushed exasperation and frightful footsteps filled the air - unnerving, because that’s all it was. Nothing else. Silence. Complete silence. This meant either one of two things: the news of your escape hadn’t made itself known to your captors yet. Either that, or they knew. Now only tactically planning an ambush and later your execution.

You shivered in protest.

Upon swiftly arriving at the next corner, the freckled man suddenly stopped. To your floundering surprise, the strong arm around your waist yanked you back with great urgency, and in the opposite direction you flung. Confused and slightly miffed, you managed to throw Freckles a questioning glare, but before he offered any sort of explanation, you were being shoved into the nearest hiding place.

A narrow break in the wall. Barely an arm’s length wide, and not quite four foot deep. Nevertheless, the pair of you would fit, because it didn’t look like the freckled man wouldn’t have it otherwise. Breathless, he yanked you in. The wall clawed at your back like something feral, vulgar and uninviting. This place had it in for you.

“The hell do you think you’re –!”

You were immediately hushed. A large palm came down firm onto your lips and suddenly the world came to an abrupt halt. In the shadows, your eyes met, wide and sparkling with heated adrenaline. He remained silent. Aggressively raising his index finger, you noted the way his lips disappeared as his nosed curled up. His eyebrows towed in close and his teeth bared almost humorously. For emphasis, he vigorously tapped his finger to his mouth three times before pointing to the open space. He didn’t need to spell it out. You weren’t stupid. A light tapping hit your ears and your suspicions were confirmed.

Someone was coming.

Instinctively you took a breath. Your heart thumping unashamedly in your chest. It was so loud.

_Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up!_

Cursing yourself, you waited.

The footsteps got louder, more disjunct and you felt your stomach drop to your ass. There was more than one.

_Oh, for Christ’s sake._

Frightening electricity bolted through your veins. You looked to the freckled man. His eyes were trained on the source of light that seeped from the gap, hard and patient and ready. Was there something dissimilar about him? Perhaps it was that steadied glare of his that somewhat settled your nerves. Or maybe the gleam in his eye, so astray from his usual mischievous glow, that seemed to ignite a different terror in you. Who knows. All you knew, was that having someone else to rely on right now – someone who had your back as you had his (no matter how far away it seemed) was something you were grateful for.

“Have you heard?”

A voice. From your terror, it took a moment to register their words. The freckled man remained silent.

“Heard what?” another voice spoke.

“Boss has the girl.” At this, the pair of you stilled. Swallowing unsettling suspicions, you held your breath to hear better.

_A girl? What are they talking about?_

“What, _the_ girl?” A third voice. “You’re kidding.”

“It’s true, she’s a right good looking one, too!” Could this be a fourth voice? Maybe it was the first. You were losing track.

“Wait, seriously? Man, how long’s it been?”

“Nearly two decades!” This voice was much louder, more imposing, shrill and as cold as ice. The atmosphere grew tense beneath his words and it was clear the authority this man held was not to be riddled with. The other men hushed their gossip. “But our search isn’t over – don’t forget!”

“Callus!”

The padding footsteps paused – save one. A piercing, hysterical laughter bubbled in his throat and you swallowed nothing. “And no one can touch her… because I’ll be the one to taste her first!” A screeching howl of laughter erupted, and you were starting to feel uncomfortable. Curse these facetious scallywags. Freckles also shifted in his spot – perhaps the proximity was making him ill at ease.

The laughing died down. No. It just grew further away. At last, you could breathe once more. It was only until you relaxed did you realise just how much the serum was not to be underestimated. Fighting a vicious haze, the pair of you shuffled awkwardly out of your hiding spot. You noticed, had you not been sandwiched so snugly against the not-so-strange-like stranger, you probably would’ve dropped to the floor.

“Looks like they don’t know we got out,” you managed to squeak. The air was tense. For some reason Freckles seemed indifferent. Glum, choleric and even a little detached. “We still have some time. Which way now?” You breathed, hoping to veneer the dent in his adrenaline. He looked around for a second, before deciding.

“This way.”

Once again, your arm was slung over his shoulder, as his around your waist. Progress through the labyrinth-like hallways was slow and fruitless; every unsuccessful corner revealed another alleyway made of stone, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could last.

It was only when a brazen, thunderous alarm sounded angrily through several hidden speakers did your body jolt awake. A shock of terror. Your skin melted to grey.

You’d been caught out.

The alarm seemed to elate the stranger, too. He ran faster, and in his arms, you grew only a heavier burden. You couldn’t keep up.

Tired. Downtrodden. You gave in to the serum.

Slipping stubbornly through his grasp, the sound of you body hitting the floor was lost beneath the wailing siren. He halted immediately and turned. Time was fragile, and there was not any to waste on saving your lazy ass. Torn between “I’m sorry, please help,” and “Just go on without me!” you went with your gut and did the only thing you felt was appropriate and began to cry.

Snivelling and sniffling and pathetically biting your lip, you didn’t feel the abrupt way he curled his arm around your back, scooping you up. Another was placed beneath your knees, like a hook ready to yank a fish out of water, and suddenly you were away.

He clicked his tongue. “You really are a pain in the ass, your Highness. Don't give up now,” You couldn’t hold the tears. Your throat burned at the fiery injustice of having ever been trapped at all, and, undeservingly being saved by a total stranger.

How could you repay this man?

He ran through the halls with ease. You, a mere feather in the wind, effortlessly carried away with a strength that never failed to amaze you.

Maybe there was hope after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being cliché and putting in a closet (kinda) scene but it was just so tempting  
> I think maybe I am putting in too many moments where the reader gives up on life and then the stranger lifts her spirits up and then she gives up again but later has renewed hope idk what do you think? Maybe there are too many cringey moments between the two..???  
> It would really help me if you could review and tell me what you guys think :)  
> Also NEw cHAraCter?! WHat do we think? perhaps we will see more of him in the future??
> 
> Thanks everyone for all the support - I am constantly overwhelmed by all the love and appreciation.


	5. Chapter 5

It was a little while yet before you found any means to escape. There was, indeed, a modest stairway. Going up. Upon the sight, your heart fluttered confidently in your chest, excited and seething with promise. Perhaps, then, you stood on ground floor? Well, thank God for that! For a while it seemed like there was nothing _but_ a ground floor; a never-ending expanse of land that the pair of you were doomed to roam in for all eternity. How the thought sent shivers through your spine. Fortunately, Freckles didn’t mess about - without hesitation, he leaped onto the first step with you still tucked safely in his arms. There was a strange smell to him, you couldn’t help but note. Earthy. Rich. Languorous. Like old newspapers or fresh wood. His scent, akin to the rest of him, was far from shy, yet somehow very agreeable and, like fire, it consumed you.

Once at the top, and _bafflingly_ so, a wooden ladder stood proudly in your way. Up close, you noticed it was neither stone nor crumbling from the ageing rust and, even stranger still, this caused your heart to swell.

You angled your head upwards. “Looks like an exit,” He affirmed, panting and out of breath.

Above you, a big and shiny circular shaped disc. In the centre, a large metal wheel stood staring back at you dauntingly. It resembled something of a vault door. Beyond it – could there be the treasure you’d been praying for all this time? Beneath the sounding alarm, distant yelling filled your ears. You’d need to find out sooner rather than later.

“Think you can stand? I’ll go first. Stay close.” He commanded. You nodded hastily in reply as he gently set you down. Wobbling like jelly, you immediately latched onto the nearest wall to balance yourself, ignoring the stranger’s outstretched arms. He lingered. But there was little time. The most pressing issue was that you pursue your escape. You wafted your hand to-and-fro. He got the message, nodding uncertainly and reaching for the first arm of the ladder. Clumsily, you swiftly followed suit.

It was a weird sensation, really. Not feeling the strength in your body yet somehow willing your limbs to move. Frequently, you caught Freckles glancing down at you, his dark eyes painted with an angry concern. As reassuring as it was, time continued to wear thin. The yelling grew louder but you could only go so fast. It was a miracle you could even hoist yourself to the next step. Unnerved, you didn’t dare look back – someone could be scraping at your toes.

Once at the top, Freckles was already reaching for the vault door, clamping his fist on one of the metal bars, and awkwardly yanking it over to the right. It seemed difficult to manoeuvre, especially since the mechanism appeared stiff and it was already enough to keep himself upright. You were worried he’d get disorientated and fall when he let go of the ladder completely and used both hands to further pry the door open.

After one full rotation and a half, a wail and a whine and then one final click, the door was unlocked. The hinges groaned with defeat as it was pushed open.

You could smell it. Fresh air – wait – was that what is was? Yes. It had been so long. The scent, you were reminded, was crisp and cold and drowned you in a joy you had not felt for a long time. However, it was the light that hit you first. A striking golden hue came flooding in through streams and your skin eagerly drank up its radiance, hoping to retain its once healthy complexion after having been starved of it for so long. This door had certainly proved to be the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

Now a silhouette bathing in the sun’s blaze, the stranger had not stopped to dwindle in awe like yourself. Instead he pulled himself through, muscles flexing impressively as he did so – you almost failed to notice. For a moment, he disappeared from your sight, and then a feeling of dread suddenly sparked a dark thought.

_Is he leaving me? Is it every man for himself from here on out?_

Your heart screamed at the thought. You weren’t even sure if you could pull yourself through the door, let alone run and hide and be left to fend for yourself. Would he allow you to borrow his help for a little while longer? You weren’t sure. You needed to hurry. Still climbing, the seconds you did not see his return grew momentum. Would it turn to minutes? Hours? Days – will you ever see him again? Perhaps, he _knows_ he’s already done enough. You were, after all, two mere pirates. Two strangers.

You reached the top and gripped the edge with weak fingers, ready to hoist yourself up. Wilfully, you’d decided he’d left. Accepting this would ultimately hurt a lot less than waiting for something that would never come.

You grit your teeth, held your breath and pursed your lips. _Heave_ …

Suddenly, a hand shot in front of your eyes. Perplexed, they darted upwards.

“Quick! You _have_ to see this.” There was no time to be overjoyed, for he spoke impatiently, and his fingers couldn’t sit still. The indifferent expression suggested something was almost certainly not right. Wasting no time, you took his hand. It was larger than you thought. In addition, a lot warmer than you had imagined. It was nice, comforting, even. In the space of a breath he hauled you up, his strength surprised you for the umpteenth time that day. If not for the imperative situation at hand, you might have even blushed.

What surprised you when you rose to the surface was the clank of your feet when you stepped upon the ground. A heavy, hollow, untuned clang of metal. Your eyes glared suspiciously at the yellow steel beneath your feet. Confused, your gaze travelled upwards until it found a deep, bouncing blue, magnificently reflecting the sun in bespoke triangles of gold.

Holy shit. The ocean.

The beautiful, _beautiful_ ocean. It travelled widely to the horizon, bright and benevolent. A chime of metal sounded out as you turned to investigate further, eyes gliding along where the sea and the sky meet. Into your vision came a herd of green. An island. A large one, too. You saw a small, wooden dock, quite a ways out from the beach. Behind it, the tropical trees stood plentiful, tall and proud; you could not see through them, but salvation awaits - _freedom_ awaits.

But then – a thought. You were distracted by the scenery just now, but you remember. This metal island you stood upon – why Freckles was so unsettled earlier – the pair of you had climbed out of it, after all – and, now, surrounded by sea. This place around you was unfamiliar – not where you were got caught and, of course, there’d been no windows. _Of course_ there’d been no windows… no light. The Stairs, because how else would you get out? And that vault door in the ceiling – it all made sense now.

It was a… submarine?

“What on earth…” You gasped, wide eyed and unbelieving. This whole time… you’d been submerged below water? The stranger had kicked the door shut resulting in a loud slam. You jumped, wincing slightly.

“We have to get off this thing,” He ordered, already waltzing over to the dock. “Or they’ll figure out where we went.” You staggered after him, nearly tripping over your own feet. You heard him grumble something about “fucking seastone chains.”

Ah, yes. You’ forgotten about his devil fruit ability (and the shackles for that matter, you’d become so used to the constant clanking and he seemed to manage so well with them on anyway you forgot they were even there).

“There may be a village on the island, we just need to –”

**_BANG!_ **

You halted, as did Freckles, and jerked your head towards the source of the sound, the tangles of your tresses flying nonchalantly in the wind.

**_BANG!_ **

It came from wherein you’d escaped. The vault door roared with a vengeful rage that shrouded your body in panic.

**_CLANK! BANG!_ **

Time to get a move on. You set off running – as fast as your frozen body would allow. The stranger loitered still a little further ahead, watching the door with beady eyes and a ready stance and, it wasn’t until you passed him did he turn to follow. The clank of the yellow steel below your feet was replaced by hollow thudding, then all at once your footsteps disappeared, now soundless against the heavy sand. You ran, towards the dock and into the trees.

In your ears your breathing was loud and fast, the beating of your heart just as so. Yet you continued at this pace, the stranger hot on your heels, for what seemed like the best part of an hour (it was probably only a few minutes). Another step and it felt as if your chest would all but combust. Tired, you refused another step. He also skidded to a halt, the pair of you gasping for air.

“Are… are we safe?” You managed to wheeze.

“No. Not yet.” He muttered, sturdily regaining his composure. You, however, were nearly on your knees. Clearly, weeks of malnourishment, no exercise and two god damn bullet wounds were making this mightily difficult for you.

“Then – what now?” You breathed, looking to him expectantly. His eyes met yours. A second passed and then, he smiled. It was beaming and bright and took you wholly off guard.

“ _Food_!”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can I just say that it's a bloody miracle this chapter is alive (and early!!?!??)
> 
>  
> 
> To be honest I had a lot more planned for this chapter but had to cut it short in fear of losing my inspiration. I'll just put it in the next one ;)
> 
> Also, what do we think please, people? As someone who's aware of the plot n all manner of what's occurring in past present and future chapters, I'm really not aware of what's a surprise and what isn't, what's interesting and what isn't. I've been going over this story again and again I'm not even sure if I've been able to keep our little freckly stranger in character anymore!!! Tips and tricks are in high demand rn everyone so please speak up and end my suffering! :'D
> 
> also I'm going to scratch what I said last chapter about quality bc I'm uploading this un-proofed because I am too tired of these damn words to read them again so pls forgive me :)
> 
> Nevertheless I hope you enjoyed this and thanks a bunch for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before I get into it, I'd like to apologise for making everyone wait.
> 
> If I'm being honest, a few things have happened since my last post, and I feel like a lot about me has changed.   
> Believe me when I say I have tried on multiple occasions to start this chapter, and each time I bring up a blank sheet, my mind is just as so. My mental health has been dragged through the mud, and it has been difficult to keep my spirits high. 
> 
> In the coming weeks, months, I have important exams and nearly held off all attempts to further this chapter until my exams were over. But I didn't want to keep you waiting. :) Unfortunately because of this, chapter 7 will not be out until late spring (hopefully).
> 
> On another note, I've enjoyed reading some books, they have settled my thoughts, helped my writer's block and, I believe, somewhat improved my vocabulary and skill as a fictional writer. :D So please tell me what you think in the comments! It's really important I know what you think of the story!
> 
> Sorry for babbling on, I know I've kept you all waiting so I'm here to deliver a lovely little chapter as thanks for all your support and hitting 100 kudos! 
> 
> Enjoy!

A terrible growl roared from the pit of your stomach at the mere word. It enticed your starving mind into a fanciful illusion of all sorts of wild cuisines that had failed to entertain you for the past few weeks. Your mouth wettened at the idea of a plate covered in a delicious array of nourishments but, as it stood, your brain was as empty of ideas as your stomach was for food. Deprived of all energy, sustenance, and the will to ignore that derogative wound in your side, you slumped gracelessly to the ground.

“Well, what do you suggest?” You inquired, groaning and wincing as you settled yourself beside the nearest tree. “There doesn’t seem to be a town nearby and, if we are to find our own dinner, I can assure you I will not be of much help.” Your tired eyes glazed over his hands. It didn’t matter if you found a town or not, you thought; those shackles weren’t half suspicious. It would be more suspicious for someone willing _serve_ him. Not to mention, you were barely half awake, and the pair of you were drenched crimson from head-to-toe.

The stranger nodded curtly, dark brows furrowing in heated concern. “Because of that drug they gave you, right?”

“Yeah, but not just that. I’m also terribly wounded –” You confessed, sighing in pain on cue – “and a _terrible_ cook.” Though the comment was an attempt at light-hearted conversation, nervously, you sank your teeth into you bloodied lip to keep it from putting thoughts into his head. You didn’t want to give this man _another_ reason to leave you behind.

He gave a short chuckle, shook his head and raked a hand through the unkempt tresses of his dark locks. “I’m not much of a cook either. Thatch would always cook for me. I am good at eating, though.” He drew away the corners of his mouth in a brilliant smile. One of which you don’t ever suppose could fail to knock you off guard. Those pearly whites contrasted so well to his tanned skin and rugged appearance, and it struck you in the most unfamiliar way. There was as a sentiment to his words that you _could_ familiarize with, however.

Personally, and you expected as was the same for your freckled friend, you had never a need for cooking, because there would always be someone else to fill the role of chef.

 _Thatch_. You’d heard that name from him a few times before. Freckles had expressed a paramount of respect for this man with such great words, and it tempted you to dream of meeting him yourself, to see if his food tasted as good as the generous words spoken of him. Bouncing from crew to crew like a frantic goat, you had tasted the skills of many a chef. However, it shamed you to realise you had no generous words to speak of your own chef, Jisuu.

Bitter, you clenched your jaw and looked at your feet. The condition of your leathered boot was tragic, you would note. Just about as beaten and battered as your spirit.

“I propose we head inland. We can keep searching for a town. If there’s still no signs of life by the time it gets dark, we can find another way to eat and rest up.” You looked to the stranger, hiding your pleasant surprise with a shroud of indifference upon your tired features. _We_ , the voice in your head repeated. Afraid to pick up on it in case he’d change his mind, you quickly attempted to rise from your spot by the tree. Only, you didn’t. The borrowed energy used to escape the stronghold had run dry, and all that was left was the barren vessel of your corpse.

Without a word, the stranger scooped you up and the pair of you set off to delve deeper into the alluring jungle air. You nestled your head into the crook of his neck, unable to keep it up anymore. He had no complaints, only adjusting his hold to make it easier for you. The feeling of your cheek on his shoulder made your skin tingle, made every pore burn with an ache you’d never once felt before. Unable to shove it away, you mustered up the last of your strength to challenge a distraction.

“That’s the wrong way, dumbass.”

 

It was sooner dark than you would’ve liked. As soon as the sun’s glow disappeared from the crevices of the trees, the late afternoon sincerity was replaced by a coarse evening chill. It nibbled at your nose and caressed a cold hand over your bare stomach and legs. The only thing that granted sanctuary from the subtle wind was your trusty jacket, drowning your shoulders in warmth. The jacket, however, could not hold a candle to the stranger who cradled you. Heat seeped off him like a wet sponge in a contracting fist. Perplexing, it was. The man wore nothing but a cropped pair of charcoal shorts, black battered boots and a red beaded necklace, yet behaved so dramatically impervious to the night you couldn’t help but suspect his offhand demeanour a façade.

The drug provided candid immunity from all senses, so _you_ could at least bear the swelling of the cold. But endorsing the stranger who had keenly rekindled hope on multiple grounds to rot in the cold was something that made your moral reasoning twist and writhe in an uncomfortable silence. You’d give him your jacket, had you the strength. Other than that, there was little else you _could_ give him.

You retreated further into the nape of his neck, eyes fluttering closed. The inviting warmth, rhythmic thumps of his footsteps and the subtle rocking with his every step lulled you into a quiet reverie. You sought to rid yourself of this heavy drowsiness before you fell asleep in his embrace.

“It’s nearly dark, now. You should –”

“Wait.” He snapped, halting dead in his tracks. “What’s that?” Your eyes shot open, alarmed by the sudden scrutiny. Your eyes curl into slits as you squint to see past the shadows, mind running rampage for whatever dangerous monstrosity was about to pounce from the darkness. But nothing appeared out of consequence. Silence endowed the loud swashing of blood through your veins and the thumping of your erratic heart centre stage.

“See what?” You hissed, wary not to alert whatever concealed beast of your presence. But then, as the clouds parted like curtains, and the moon’s glow shone freely onto their subdued paths, you saw it, too. There was no such beast, no phantom in the dark. “A house!” You cried, eyes sparkling like a mirror to the moons obstinate glow, lips gliding gracefully across your cheeks in genuine relief.

With relaxed haste, Freckles stalked into the clearing in large strides. As the tattered house came into view, you made note of the blackened windows. Looked like nobody was home. Upon further speculation, a small garden and a decrepit garage stood sheepishly adjacent to the house.

“It looks like an old farm.” He spoke quietly, “Perhaps there are some tools in the garage, I’m dying to get these damn chains off,” the stranger grumbled, and the chains sang in response.

You bit back a reply with bitter anxiety. A gnawing thought paraded about your mind. Once he was rid of this handicap, would he rid himself of the next?

You swallowed the bile that bubbled in your throat, pushing away senseless attachment and promising yourself not to cry when he does, but instead be gracious. Thank him for all his effort, wish him well and tell him to say hello to Thatch in your stead.

Freckles set you down, propped up against his side so he could use one free hand to open the shed door. Reaching for the cold steal of the handle, it jarred a click when forced not one half a revolution. As if deterring it into submission was the key, he pulled his brows together in displeasure and scowled at the door.

“Locked.” Clicking his tongue, he growled. Before you could suggest searching for a key at better light, Freckles set you down, standing defiantly before the door in a wide stance. Briefly, he glanced left and right, as if checking there was not one wondering soul to witness his crime. You nearly scoffed. What kind of pirate is this? The kind who concerns himself with trifle rules, basic manners and the betterment of others? But you were shorn of an argument to prove him otherwise unworthy of the title. On the contrary, he had delivered a blow to the door so and brisk and spirited and so very _pirate_ -like, you were amazed it didn’t fly off the hinges screaming _parley._

He helped you find your feet; the metal steel of the lock sang chimes as it collided with the floor. Guiding you in, you were staggered to find his hunch correct. The little hut was indeed brazen with layers and layers of rusting equipment. Dust coated every square inch of the scene, and all was but infected with a rotten decay. The stale air was suffocating, and even the mere movement of simply entering seemed to disturb the putrid ventilation (or lack thereof) and caused a stir that the barn had clearly not seen for years.

You drew a hand to your mouth as you coughed. The other rested upon a suspiciously large cog to retain balance. Your freckled friend had already spotted something that would suffice in cutting free of his hands and had impatiently trotted off. He plucked the plier from its regal position on the wall. With a grunt and a groan and a hiss from his teeth, the chain snapped. To see the equipment, old and rusting irrevocably, perform smoothly surprised you almost as much as the dark-haired man’s strength. The shackles groan as they left his wrists, revealing an angry red in its place.

Exercising his new-found freedom with a grand smile, something came to your attention.

“So,” You huffed, melting into the dusty mechanics, “I think it’s time you told me your name.”

Somehow his grin stretched wider, and his brown orbs disappeared behind his lashes. “Oh yeah, sorry,” He stalked over to you. “Nice to meet you, my name is Ace.” He lowered his head politely in a civil bow. _Ace._ How fitting, you thought. The radiance in his contagious chortle managed to drag out a half-hearted smile of your own. He gazed at you expectantly, the freckles on his cheeks glaring wilfully in anticipation for your reply.

But before you could open your mouth, a familiar click echoed in the darkness. The moonlight glow illuminated the cylindrical shape and a frail finger that graced tauntingly over the trigger – the gun was pointed at Ace’s head.

You released a frantic gasp, clinging desperately to the steel behind you whilst Ace turned his hands to the ceiling. A silence so tantalising and dangerous washed over your enigma, it made your skin crawl and your heart rush to your mouth. Ace, however, showed little more than vague surprise. He was wary and careful, but ultimately it as was though he didn’t care if part of his brains were to be blown from his head.

Your eyes, as wide as saucers, couldn’t help but follow down the length of the intruder’s spindly arm, down, down, before settling restlessly, unnervingly on a silhouette. She stepped into the light. An old woman, as disformed and decrepit as the house the she did reside, came hobbling from the shadows, brittle and flimsy, yet the grip on the pistol was anything but.

“Who are you an’ what the devil are ‘ya doin’ in my shed!” She screeched, an ancient old wail that came scraping raw from her throat.

Ace smiled pleasantly, “Ah, well you came at the right time. We were just introducing ours –”

Ace’s sharp tongue could not finish - she pulled the trigger and a thunderous boom shattered the quiet veil of the night as your lips put asunder for release of a violent scream.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Don't forget to drop a comment! See you soon! <3


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